This has all happened before
by Harlem
Summary: Peter chooses the WRONG person for a mother. Oh, read it and be offended. . Either offended or sadistically amused.
1. Emily Revealed

A/N: BAM! SHAZAM! I am BACK! Well...I am HERE! I'm back to FF.net, but new in the Peter Pan fandom! Or something! Ok, anyway, I apologize for the incoherency, but it's a snow-day, and I drank a lot of soda. Anyway, welcome to my fic! ^.^ Now, really, this was a vehicle for me to release some stress and anger after a particularly shitty week, so I apologize in advance. Another thing I apologize for is the possible misquote of Sir J.M. Barrie (who, by the way, wrote Peter Pan and gave the rights to the Great Ormand Street Hospital, which owns Peter, Neverland, etc.). It's just that the book is downstairs and I am far too lazy to go get it and find the actual quote. So, this has a lot of elements from the 2003 movie. Also, there are parenthetical statements included that are NOT annoying Author's Notes, they're part of the narration. Thought I'd clear that up. ^.^ Anyway, Read and Review if possible, and for the love of Billy Boyd, ENJOY! ^.^  
  
Disclaimer: Aside from the aforementioned denial of ownership, I don't own Leatherface, Freddy Kruger, Jack the Ripper, Lestat, Superman, or Brody from Mallrats either. Damn. I could really go to town with those gents.  
  
(~"This has all happened before"~) By: Harlem  
  
-tap tap tap-  
  
Emily Coburn sat straight up in bed.  
  
-tap tap tap-  
  
She reached out her hand and clicked on the lamp. Her heart was beating loudly and her eyes were wide and unblinking. She had half a mind to yell "Who's there?!", but she had seen enough horror movies to know that that was a stupid and fruitless thing to do. So she just sat there, staring at the window, waiting for Leatherface, Freddy Kruger, Jack the Ripper, or Lestat to jump through it.  
  
-TAP TAP TAP-  
  
"Alright! Jesus! I'm coming!" she yelled, annoyed by both the repetitive noise and the audacity in those final taps. Plaid bedsheets went flying aside and Emily picked her way around the clothes, notebooks, and music lying all over the carpet to the big picture window. Before she moved the sheet (you see, there was a bedsheet covering the window because Emily hadn't gotten around to getting curtains yet.), she picked up a heavy statuette she'd gotten on opening night the previous fall.  
  
-TAP!-  
  
"For Christ's sakes!"  
  
Down came the makeshift drape and Emily glared expectantly. But - she saw nothing. Well, her own reflection, because being as it was 12:48 a.m., it was rather dark outside. Now a bit more curious than scared, Emily tossed her "weapon" aside, cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed them (her hands, not her eyes), to the glass. She squinted into the darkness and tried to look around the yard to see what would be tapping on her window.  
  
"HOLY SHIT!" Emily screamed, flailing backwards and landing on her bum on the floor. She began breathing heavily to try and work her heart back into beating. Someone had put their face right in front of hers from the outside! As soon as the steady pulse came back under her palm, her brain started to rationalize.  
  
"You made it up because you were scared. It wasn't real. Don't be a dumbass," it lectured.  
  
And just as she was about to believe what her saner side was telling her, Emily felt a cold breeze on her legs. Her eyes immediately flew to the window, which to her terror was OPENING.  
  
"Oh my God. I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming. This isn't real. Nope. Okaaaaaay! Gonna wake up, and go to school! Here we go! Wake up!"  
  
The window was about a quarter of the way open.  
  
"Wake up!"  
  
Now it was half open.  
  
"Goddamn it, Emily, wake UP!" She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her 'concious self' to take over.  
  
The window hit the top of the frame.  
  
Emily opened her eyes. "Ho-ly shit." (1)  
  
Standing in her window was a boy. He looked to be about 13 or 14, but his grin and cocky little Superman pose hinted at his age being somewhere around 8.  
  
"Hello," the boy said.  
  
Footnote: 1) Said like Brody from Mallrats  
  
A/N: Gee, let's all wonder who it is in the window. All sarcasm aside, the real fun starts here. Thanks for reading and stay tuned! ^.^ 


	2. Peter Revealed

A/n: Woah, took me a while, but here be the next chapter. Arrrr. ^.^ No, I have NOT been watching Pirates of the Caribbean too much!!! ^.^() Heh, anyway. Thanks to my one and only reviewer, AngelGoddessMissy, who actually added this to her favorites list. GO MISSY! ^.^ And for clarification, Emily is a foulmouthed 16 year old girl. ^.^ Ok, not much to say except that I still don't own Peter Pan, or Neverland. Damn, no royalties for me. I also like to THINK that I own Kurt Cobain, but I really don't. Goddammit, don't I get ANYTHING cool?! Anywho, Chapter 2. (Oh man, that freakin RHYMED! Yeah ME!)  
  
(~"This has all happened before"~) By: Harlem  
  
"I've gone completely unhinged", Emily muttered. "I've been on the internet too much, and it really HAS rotted my brain! Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."  
  
"Fuck," the boy repeated, looking quite proud of himself.  
  
Emily glared at him. "Great!" she exclaimed in false pride, "Now I have Peter Pan saying 'fuck'. What a weeeeird sense of reality I'm having."  
  
Peter hissed and pulled out his knife. "How do you know my name?!" he growled.  
  
Emily gave him an unimpressed look. "Please. Because you HAVEN'T been a legend for, like, EVER."  
  
"I haven't?" Peter looked more than a little put-out. He slid his knife back into its sheath and sank to the floor Indian-style, pouting all the way.  
  
"It's sarcasm, Peter. Saying the opposite of what is meant in a wry or joking manner." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh," Peter said. He then suddenly leapt into the air, crowing. "OH THE CLEVERNESS OF-"  
  
"Shut the hell up, you didn't do anything." Emily yanked on his foot and Peter landed on the ground with a *thump*. "Why are you here, anyway? Don't you hang around London, and shit? This is MISSOURI. There's nothing HERE." She waved her arms around for emphasis.  
  
Peter began picking items up off of the floor around him. "What are these?" he asked, innocently, holding up a pair of underwear.  
  
"Give me those!" Emily snatched them from his hand and threw them into a corner. "And don't avoid the question, why the hell are you HERE?"  
  
"I like the music," Peter simply replied. Then, as if to prove that he too was musical, he whipped out his pan pipes and began to play.  
  
"The music...? Do you mean-" Emily pushed play on her DVD player. Within a few seconds, the tortured, ingenius screams of Kurt Cobain filled the air.  
  
Peter made a face. "No. I meant when YOU sing it." He resumed playing his pipes.  
  
In spite of herself, Emily felt rather pleased. "Well, thank you, I-"  
  
"So you'll be our mother then? Er-er-er-er-errrrrrrrrrr!" Peter beamed and flew in circles around the room, crowing.  
  
"WHAT?!?!?!!!" Emily screeched in total horror. "Nonononononono NO! I am NOT going to be your MOTHER!!!"  
  
Peter glared at her. "Why not."  
  
"Well for starters, I hate kids."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because of shit like THAT! God, it's so OBNOXIOUS! And another thing! I can't miss any school. Like, at all. You miss one day at my high school, and you're SCREWED."  
  
Peter made another disgusted face. "School? There's no school in Neverland, Emily."  
  
She rolled her eyes again. "I know. But I have school HERE. Jesus, boys just don't LISTEN, do they?"  
  
Peter smiled a smile he thought no woman could resist. "Well, one girl is worth twenty boys."  
  
"HA! I'm not falling for that! That's exactly what you said to Wendy!"  
  
"What's a 'Wendy'?"  
  
A/N: Ok, that's all for now, I suppose I'll update again...maybe. I happen to like this exchange coming up, so more than likely, I will. Um, review and I'll give you some String Cheese, because everyone like String Cheese!! 


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